


To Be Young

by Aradaisy



Category: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-11 22:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11724222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aradaisy/pseuds/Aradaisy
Summary: Spongebob Squarepants is a new freshman at BBU. He's recently moved into his own apartment, and he plans to study culinary arts. When he meets a young struggling barista, his entire world turns upside down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! I rushed a large portion of this, but I still hope you like it.  
> Without further ado, please enjoy To Be Young.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SpongeBob is a young aspiring chef starting his freshman year at BBU. When he meets a young struggling barista, his whole world turns upside down.
> 
>   
> 

An alarm rings out into the silence of a near empty apartment. It’s 8:00 AM.

A young man stirred in his bed, blond curly hair ruffled from a restless night of sleep. He groans, sits up, and rubs at his achy eyes with his fingertips. He’s shaking, only a bit. If he was in public, it would hardly be noticeable. Regardless, he was still shaking. He sucked in a harried breath.

His stomach lurched a bit at being awoken so suddenly, not at all used to being woken. His senior year of high school ended in late May, and he had enjoyed a summer with his few friends and his parents. He hadn’t moved very far. The University he was enrolled in was in the same town he had been raised in, and that was a good thing.

His family was well off, happily living a middle class lifestyle. He hardly had any issues during his upbringing, and if he did, they were minor. They had agreed to pay part of his tuition and help with his rent. He had suggested that he live in the dorms with everyone else, but his family insisted upon having his own apartment near campus. They said it would help him feel more “in control” of his life, though he didn’t see how.

He blinked and stretched. A groan escaped from his lips and a few cracks were heard from his joints. It felt nice. A small smile spread across his face, showing a gap in between his teeth. Others thought it was odd and that he should’ve had it fixed early on, but he thought it added character. It didn’t put a strain on his daily life, it wasn’t hurting him. It just gave him character, and that made him interesting. He liked that about himself. It was a good thing to be different.

He got up and threw a robe on, making his way to the bathroom. Classes started today, and he wouldn’t miss the first few days of classes for anything. He wasn’t about to show up stinking, either.

He turned the water on, leaving it for a minute until the room started to fog up. He took a hand and tested the water for adequate warmth, only to pull back with a hiss. It was much too hot. He turned the knob a bit to the left, stepping back when he was done. While the water cooled, he walked over to the mirror and wiped his hand across the fog that had appeared minutes earlier.

He studied himself, blue eyes running across his features. He had a smattering of freckles across his cheeks, which always seemed to be flushed. His hair curled and became unruly while he slept or was in a place with high humidity.

The glass fogged up again and he drew a smiley face where his face should’ve been, causing him to erupt in joyful laughter. Most people called it annoying, but it wasn’t like he could control it. You should never contain happiness, not if you’re not hurting anyone. He firmly believed in that.

After he had showered and completed his morning hygiene regimen, he threw a towel around his lean waist and padded back to his bedroom, opening the doors to the small walk in closet.

He didn’t have much on his hangers, but he had enough to be happy with it. He wasn’t too big on fashion, he mostly dressed for the weather and occasion. The weather that day was bleak, leaves turned from green to gold and the cold season was starting to settle in. The town had fallen prey to autumn, much to his dismay. He loved the summer, and he loved the sunny days that came with it. It allowed him to capture butterflies and bees with his best friend, only to let them go right away.

He sniffed and rubbed at his nose, scanning the closet for something warm to wear. He eventually settled on a beige cable knit sweater and a burgundy scarf for the top, and brown slacks matched with black dress shoes for the bottom. Once he combed his hair and looked himself over in the mirror a few times, he grabbed his bag. He had packed his school supplies the night prior, too excited to go to sleep early. Before he left, he threw on a brown wool peacoat.

Once he was out of the door and down the street at the bus stop, he glanced at the watch on his wrist, shivering from the nip of the cold air. He could grab some food and a coffee from that cafe near campus, he had just enough time to drink a coffee and eat a bagel before his class started. He nodded to himself and slipped earbuds in, scrolling his iPod to find  _Mr. Blue Sky_  by  _Electric Light Orchestra_. He tilted his head back and let out a long breath, pretending that the fog it created was the smoke from a dragon.

The bus had pulled in a little early, and he thought that it was great. That gave him more time to kill. He hopped on, smiling pleasantly to greet the driver.

“Good morning! My name is Spongebob.” He stuck a frail arm out to shake the man’s hand. “I’ll be riding with you to the BBU campus everyday.”

The man grumbled and shook his hand, inspecting his student ID. After 15 seconds of squinting, he handed Spongebob his ID back and told him to sit down.

Spongebob sat down near the front, looking around at the people inside. They seemed friendly enough. He spotted a girl around his age sitting not too far off. She seemed out of place, but not so much as to be strange. Just a bit eccentric, which was a great thing!

She was fiddling with her bag, pulling papers out and inspecting them. She was mumbling incoherently to herself.

Spongebob cleared his throat and attempted to talk to her. “You seem really busy, what are you looking for?”

The girl looked up briefly. “I’m looking for my schedule, I’m headed to a class this morning. I can’t seem to find it anywhere.”

Spongebob’s face lit up. “I’m going to a class too! First class of the semester. First class ever, actually!” He exclaimed.

The girl looked up, actually acknowledging him for a second. “You don’t say?”

Spongebob nodded and smiled at her accent. “Definitely! You know, if you can’t find your schedule, I can help you get a new one when we get to campus. I scoped the place out beforehand,” he said. “I have just enough time to spare.”

The girl grinned and messed with the flower in her curly black hair. “Sure, little dude. I’d appreciate it a whole lot.” She put her papers away hastily. “My name is Sandy. I just moved here.” Spongebob wondered where she came from with an accent like that. “Nice to meet you Sandy, I’m Spongebob! I’ve lived in this town my whole life.”

The two bantered back and fourth for some time, talking about their hobbies and giving each other a brief story of their backgrounds. They apparently shared a love of karate, and Sandy invited him to join her at the martial arts club. He expectedly jumped on the idea, agreeing immediately.  
The bus finally pulled to a stop in front of the cafe. He got up and cheerfully thanked the bus driver, wishing him the best of days. The bus driver shooed them off and continued his route, leaving the two standing on the curb with their bags.

Spongebob smiled at Sandy and rocked back and fourth on his soles. “I came here once while I was scoping campus out. They have bagels that are to die for, and the coffee isn’t bad either.” He continued. “You seem pretty stressed, can I buy you a coffee too? It’s not a bother at all.”

Sandy puffed her cheeks a bit. “Are you sure it’s not a bother? Wouldn’t want you to go through any more trouble than you already are,” she explained.

Spongebob was slightly taken aback. “Of course it’s not a bother! I want to! You’re not trouble. Not at all.”

They walked inside and looked around. It was everything you’d expect from a cafe. The walls were a dark wood, and tables lined the large windows. It was large enough to hold a good amount of people, but not too large to be overwhelming. Spongebob thought it was perfect, with the scenery outside and the sound of coffee shop murmurs in the background. The smell of freshly brewed coffee pulled him back to reality.

He asked Sandy what she wanted and asked her to find an open table. When he finally walked up to the counter to order, he was met by a tall man with silvery blue hair and steely eyes. He didn’t seem entirely happy to be there.

Spongebob gulped and forced a smile. “Hi! I’m Spongebob. I’m starting classes at the college today.” The man frowned and regarded him silently. Spongebob began to lightly sweat. “I’ll probably become a regular here. I sure do like the bagels, they’re to die for!”

The man’s eyebrow was raised. “That’s nice, Spongebob. I’m  _so_  happy for you.” He had a bite in his tone. “How may I take your order?”

Spongebob hardly noticed his rude tone and mistook it for genuine kindness. “Thanks! Well, seeing as I’ve never tried your coffee before…what would you recommend?” He lightly bounced on his feet.

The man rolled his eyes, thinking for a moment. “Well,” he started, “I always drink a vanilla bean frappe. Maybe you should try that.” He didn’t actually care much for the frappe, it was just cheap and he liked making them.

Spongebob’s eyes widened. “That sounds really yummy! I’ll have that. Oh-” he remembered, “and my friend will have a dark chocolate mocha. Can you throw in two raisin bagels as well?”

The man disregarded Spongebob’s cheerful demeanor and walked off to complete the order. Spongebob’s eyes followed him for a minute, and he returned to the table where his new friend sat.

“Did you see that guy?” He started. “He sure is quiet. I bet he’s smart, not much of a talker.”

Sandy shrugged. “Maybe. He just seems rude to me.”

Spongebob gasped dramatically for a playful effect. “Oh, never! They always have some sort of broody mysterious back story.”

They laughed and thanked the man when he brought them their food and drinks, talking more about random entertaining subjects. It turned out that Sandy shared a few classes with him, after she found her schedule. It had been buried beneath her books at the bottom of her bag.

They finished their food and their drinks were nearly gone, causing Spongebob to glance at his wrist again.

“Oh, barnacles. We’d better hurry out if we want to make this first class,” he sighed. He really enjoyed sitting there with his friend, his coffee, and his bagels.

Sandy nodded and playfully punched his shoulder. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks for the grub, little bugger.”

As they got up to leave, he glanced back at the barista. He wasn’t paying attention to them, not to anyone’s surprise. He was leaned against the wall behind the register reading a novel.

Spongebob shuddered, be it from the autumn air or the rude barista, he wasn’t sure.

He and Sandy walked on, feet splashing in small puddles of grey on the asphalt. This was good, he thought. This is a good start to the semester.

He wondered what book the barista had been reading.

Perhaps he’d ask him some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at http://aradaisy.tumblr.com for chapter art.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SpongeBob attends class for the first time, confused when he sees the barista from before wander in with nothing but a notebook and a pencil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an extreme shortie, but they'll start to pick up in length and overall excitement pretty soon. That's how it is with stories- you have to stick around for a few chapters until the good stuff starts happening!

SpongeBob attended his first class at 10:30 AM. He walked into the grand lecture room and craned his head back and forth, looking around. It was a philosophy class, and the professor was a small man staring off into space while the students poured in and found their seats. SpongeBob was in absolute awe. He had grown up in a fairly large home, but this room was absolutely gigantic. The walls were very high, and rows of seats ran up to the entrance. The professor sat at the bottom, at a large oak desk, shifting through papers. A blackboard that ran the entire length of the wall was behind him, covered in smudges of chalk.

He made his way to the front, eager to learn everything he possibly could and scope out all of the different people that attended the University. He sat down next to a larger boy wearing a green and purple Hawaiian shirt with a pink tank top underneath. Anyone else would’ve thought that he looked downright silly, but SpongeBob thought he looked like a pretty fun guy. He seemed nice enough, at least. The boy was sucking on his thumb idly, tapping his foot on the ground. He seemed to be thinking, though the vacant expression on his face suggested otherwise.

The boy smiled at him and kicked his legs a bit. “Hi! I like your scarf. It’s pretty.”

SpongeBob smiled widely, the gap in his teeth on full display. “Wow, thanks! I like your shirt, it’s so colorful!”

The boy made a big deal of the compliment, making a goofy face. “What’s your name? I’m Patrick!”

SpongeBob bounced a bit in his seat and opened his palm to shake Patrick’s hand. “I’m SpongeBob! SpongeBob Squarepants. Nice to meet you Patrick!” Patrick grabbed his hand and shook it so hard that SpongeBob was afraid his frail arm might fall off.

The two boys cracked jokes and talked about their favorite video games while the last of the students poured in. To SpongeBob’s surprise, the tall barista from earlier walked in with nothing but a notebook and a pencil. He looked very tired, dark bags beneath his eyes.

The professor cleared his throat and frowned a bit. “Hello everyone, I’m professor Sheldon Plankton. You can just call me Plankton, if you must.” He adjusted his green waistcoat. He was an older man in his 40’s, and he had an eyepatch on his right eye. He stood up from his desk to stand in front of it, leaning slightly with his arms crossed.

“I know it’s early, and I know you’ll have to attend this class at this time for the rest of the semester, but at least try to keep up. I’m being paid to teach you, and you’re paying to be here. Understood?”

The room was silent, and SpongeBob held his breath. He wasn’t the nicest man in the world, but he probably just needed to warm up! He’d most likely been working here for a while, and teaching an early class must be even harder than just simply attending it. He wouldn’t condemn a man just for being rude on the first day.

The professor grunted and shook his head once. “Okay, good to hear. Now, if you’ll all direct your attention to the board, we…”

He started to go off on the rules of the class and what everyone should expect. SpongeBob wasn’t always the best at listening to things he didn’t think was interesting, so his mind shifted to the barista. He was of the grumpy sorts as well, but his belief in the good in people stood strong. He couldn’t be bad, either. Everyone just needs a bit of a push, and their true colors shine right through. Friendship, he thought, was the cure to anything negative.

His eyes wandered around the room and he found the barista sitting near the back, taking concentrated notes. He didn’t have a book with him, not like the rest of the students. His hair was a bit disheveled due to running his hands through it when he was stressed, and his brows were drawn into a frown. SpongeBob wondered why he was at class right after he had just seen him working.

To SpongeBob’s surprise, the barista looked up, sensing someone staring at him. His eyes widened for a second, and then his frown returned.

SpongeBob jumped and his face heated up. It was embarrassing to be caught staring, but he wasn’t about to let the barista know that. He smiled widely and waved, greeting the barista from across the room. He simply shook his head and returned to his notes.

SpongeBob was only a little hurt by that, he told himself.

After the lecture had finished and the professor gave them the green light to leave, SpongeBob asked Patrick to wait for him for a minute while he tried to chase the barista down. Patrick agreed happily, asking if they could grab ice-cream when he got back. SpongeBob happily agreed.

He raced down the hallway, eyes connecting with the back of the barista’s brown t-shirt. He had his notebook at his side, and he was walking briskly.

SpongeBob ran after him, finally catching up with him. “Hey! I saw you at the café earlier. How come you’re at class?” He questioned joyfully.

The barista growled lowly in his throat. “I had to open shop this morning. My manager couldn’t come in early this morning and…” He stopped, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

SpongeBob laughed. “I don’t mind, I like hearing you talk!”

The barista didn’t look at him. “Okay, yeah. That’s nice. Well, I have to go.” His pace began to speed up.

SpongeBob stuck out his lower lip. “I didn’t even get your name, though!”

The barista growled again, stopping. “It’s Squidward. Can you please leave me alone now? I’m busy. I have to go back to work.”

SpongeBob ignored him, only listening to the words he thought were important. “I like that name, it’s interesting!” He puffed up. “Do you sell ice-cream at the café? My friend Patrick and I really want ice-cream, and-“

Squidward grabbed his lips, stopping his sentence. “SpongeBob. It was SpongeBob, right? Whatever. I know what you’re trying to do, and what you’re trying to do isn’t going to work. I’m a very busy person.” He let go of SpongeBob’s mouth, turning away again.

SpongeBob shook his head comically, following the barista. “I really liked the coffee you made earlier-“

Squidward shot back, continuing to walk away. “Thank you. Have a good day.”

SpongeBob stopped and smiled, watching him leave.

“Well, he remembered my name. That’s a start, isn’t it Squarepants?”

\---

After a while of playing video games in Patrick’s dorm room, SpongeBob decided to send Sandy a text message. He and Patrick we’re going to go out for ice-cream and an evening meal, and that would be a perfect excuse for him to catch up with both of his new friends at once. And to see his future friend Squidward hard at work.

 _Hey Sandy!_ He typed. _It’s SpongeBob. Patrick and I are going out for dinner and ice-cream, do you want to come? I’ll pay!_ He hit send, and he watched his screen for a minute, finally seeing the reply bubble pop up.

SpongeBob could almost hear her voice through the text message. _Sure, little fella! She replied. Do you want to go to that same café or to a different place? I know a nice little restaurant we could head to._

SpongeBob shot back immediately. _I know exactly what restaurant you’re talking about, but no. Patrick and I want to go visit the café again, I told him about it and he’s dead set on going._ He hit send.

After a few minutes, Sandy replied again. _Yeah, the Krusty Krab is pretty well known. If you’ve lived here your whole life, I’m not surprised at all that you know what I’m talking about. But I knew you wanted to go back to that café. I’m not surprised about that either ;)_

SpongeBob stared at the screen for a minute, confused. He just decided to ignore it and decode it another time. _Okay,_ he replied. _I’ll see you in 20 Sandy!_

At that, he and Patrick headed out. SpongeBob pulled his wool pea coat around him and put his scarf on again, the cold tickling at his neck. It was nice to get out and do things, especially if he was able to spend time with his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr at http://aradaisy.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SpongeBob catches a cold, and Squidward's favorite tea warms him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, chapter three! These guys sure do go through a lot on their first day, don't they?

SpongeBob and Patrick eventually turned up at Café Nautique ten minutes late, finding Sandy sitting at a different, larger table near the window. It had been raining, and the light in the café was low and homely. SpongeBob was shivering in his coat, while Patrick seemed mostly fine. SpongeBob sneezed and wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his coat. He’d have to wash it later.

Sandy looked up with a small ounce of annoyance evident on her face, but it quickly dissipated. She noticed SpongeBob’s shiver and she stood up to help him out of his soaked wool coat.

“Darn SpongeBob,” she started, “you might have caught a cold out there little buddy. Maybe try taking the bus next time, yeah?”

SpongeBob smiled weakly. “I’ll be okay, thanks Sandy. I just get chilly.” He sneezed wetly.

Sandy shook her head wearily and led them back to the table, hanging his coat to dry on the back of an oak chair. She sat the two boys down and sighed, finding a seat across from them herself. She puffed her cheeks out a little bit and fixed the flower buried in her dark curly afro.

“Well, now that you’re here, we need to get you warmed up. None of that vanilla frappe hoo ha.” She nodded her head once. “What you need is some good ol’ fashioned tea and soup.”

SpongeBob stuck a rosy lip out, making a whining noise. “But I liked the frappe! It’s my new favorite!”

Sandy stifled a laugh back behind her hand. “No, SpongeBob. You’ll get even sicker. We don’t need that; we’ve only just started the school year!”

The boy ran his fingers through the now curly mop of blond hair atop his head and rubbed at his eyes. “Okay Sandy, I guess you’re right. What kind of tea do you usually drink when you don’t feel good?”

Sandy leaned back in her chair and smiled, feeling victorious. “Mama always made us kids drink peppermint tea to clear our sinuses out when they were clogged. It feels nice on the throat too.”

SpongeBob smiled weakly. “I like peppermints! I want that kind!”

Patrick chimed in finally, breaking the very concentrated efforts he was putting in to chew at his fingernails. “I like peppermints! I want the peppermint ice-cream.” He smiled goofily and cocked his head to the side.

Sandy laughed openly, a hearty laugh that sounded like bells. “Okay, sillies. One peppermint tea for SpongeBob, and one peppermint ice-cream for good ol’ Patrick. Does that sound good?”

The two shouted in unison. “Yeah!”

SpongeBob then looked at Sandy with a curious expression, eyes wide. “What are you gonna get, Sandy?”

Sandy shrugged. “I think I’d fancy a slice of pie this evening.”

Patrick’s head shot up. “Pie?! I like pie. Sandy what pie are you getting?”

Sandy leaned forward, smiling mischievously. “The best kind of pie there is.”

Patrick gasped, eyes shining. “OOooh…I wanna know, I wanna know!” he began to kick his legs back and forth.

Sandy sat back again. “Pecan pie! It’s sweet, it’s nutty, and best of all, there’s syrupy sweet goodness inside!” She grinned, buck teeth on display.

Patrick proceeded to holler and slap the table once. “I’m getting pecan pie with ice-cream on top!”

Sandy looked over to SpongeBob. “And you,” she ruffled his hair, “need to get some actual food inside of that gut of yours. Ask that barista guy what kind of soups are on the menu tonight when he gets to our table, okay?”

SpongeBob’s eyes lit up at the mention of his new barista friend. “Okay.”

After a few minutes of idle conversation, said barista made his way to the table once more. He looked even more tired, having been up so early and working all day. The only brief break he was able to have was the short time he was at the morning philosophy class. SpongeBob furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly, but not enough that it would be noticed by anyone. Shouldn’t he be getting more rest? It was only the first day of classes, and he looked positively overworked.

Squidward rolled his eyes when he saw SpongeBob and his friends. He had already dealt with them so much in one day. “We apologize for the delay. The cooks have been busy back in the kitchen. May I offer you a menu?”

SpongeBob’s face lit up happily, not detecting the spite in the others tone at all. “No thanks, we already know what we want!”

Squidward’s mouth twitched slightly. “Wonderful. What can I get for you this evening?” He replied, voice monotone.

Patrick chimed in, obviously very excited. “I want pecan pie with a peppermint ice-cream on top!”

Squidward hummed, scribbling his order down on a small notepad. “Anything to drink?”

Patrick shook his head briskly, and his eyes trailed over to Sandy. “And for you, ma’am?”

Sandy no longer had the warm look in her eyes, but she was still coldly polite. “I’ll also have a pecan pie, thank you. Hold the ice-cream. And the drink.”

Squidward didn’t reply, scribbling away at his notepad. He closed his eyes and sighed a bit when it came to take the blond boy’s order. “And you?” he asked, opening his eyes and focusing them on the other.

SpongeBob smiled softly and sniffled. “What kind of soup is on the menu tonight?”

Squidward regarded him for a second, noticing a slight shiver. “We have split pea soup. Is that okay?”

SpongeBob nodded. “Can I have peppermint tea too? I sure hope you have it!”

Squidward rocked back on his heels, thinking. “We have all kinds of tea. We’re bound to have peppermint.” He sniffed.

“I’ll have that if you find it.” He replied.

“And if I don’t?” Squidward retorted.

“Well…” SpongeBob leaned in, elbows on the table. “What kind of tea do _you_ like?”

Squidward bristled a bit. “I like lots of tea. Tea is my favorite beverage.” He mentally pinched himself for letting more information slip.

SpongeBob brightened up a bit, sniffling again. “Wow, no way!” He sat up straight again. “In that case, I’ll have your favorite tea. It’s got to be great!”

Squidward frowned at the smaller blond boy. “You wouldn’t like it.”

SpongeBob laughed the grating laugh he was _so_ good at. “Don’t be silly, I loved the frappe earlier! Your taste is super duper!”

Squidward rolled his eyes. “Darjeeling.” He scribbled away at his notepad once more, finally closing it and taking a breath. He looked at the three and forced a smile. “I’ll be back as soon as possible with your food and drinks. Thank you.”

With that, he slinked away and disappeared into the kitchen.

SpongeBob looked over at his two new friends, grinning. “He’s not that bad of a guy, see? He can be nice too!” He pulled his sweater closer to his lean body, snuggling his face into the soft fibers.

“Yeah, if you can call a cranky old alligator nice. SpongeBob, he’s obviously not the nicest person in the world. Why do you even bother?” Sandy questioned.

SpongeBob shrugged. “Sometimes the prettiest flowers there are take the longest to bloom.”

Sandy blinked, taken aback. After a few seconds, she looked warmly at him. “You have a sweet heart, SpongeBob.”

SpongeBob grinned widely, face heating up a bit. “No, I just think we should all be nice to each other!”

Patrick swayed back and forth, a dazed smile on his face. “Sweet…sweets. I want sweets.”

\---

After a while, lovely smells drifted from the kitchen and the young friend group’s mouths started to water. Tummies rumbled and the boys were beginning to squirm in their seats from being idle for too long.

Squidward came out from the door to the kitchen, eyes a bit brighter than they were before. He had a smudge of flour on his cheek, and his hair was particularly messy.

Patrick made silly noises of excitement and squirmed in his seat. “Pie! Pie! Pie!”

Squidward made his way over to their table and sat plates of food and drinks down at their owner’s respective spots. The pie looked irresistible, and the soup smelled absolutely mouthwatering. Sandy raised an eyebrow.

SpongeBob seemed to have sparkles in his eyes. “This smells…this smells…”

Squidward stood back, brows furrowing. Little did they know, he had cooked some of the food himself.

SpongeBob looked up at Squidward, face red. “Devine!”

Squidward was taken aback at this, and he averted his eyes to gaze out the window awkwardly. “Well…thank you. I’ll give your compliments to the chef.” At that, he hurried off again. SpongeBob’s eyes trailed him all the way back to the kitchen door.

When he looked back at the soup, he sniffled a bit. It was an odd color, but it smelled nice. He lifted a spoon to taste it, and he was pleasantly surprised to find that it tasted just as good as it looked. It just needed a pinch of salt, of course.

The others started ripping into their food, Patrick comically getting ice-cream all over his face. “WOW Sandy, this is SO GOOD!”

They ate together, talking about how happy they were with their first day of classes. They had started a tiny friend group, and that made life just a little bit easier, SpongeBob thought. Life was always easier to live when you had your friends by your side.

He ate his soup in silence, the wet cold in his bones subsiding slowly. When he had eaten half of the bowl, he turned his attention to the cup of tea sitting on a saucer. Steam was twirling up from the mouth of the cup, and it was the color of caramel.

SpongeBob lifted it gingerly, holding the saucer in his left hand. When he inhaled, it smelled of earth and sugar. Strange, but not entirely horrible. He took a small sip, reveling in the flavor. It was different, and it was great. He liked different.

While he sipped away at his tea and listened to his friends talk, he gazed out the window. It was dark now, and rain was falling lightly onto the grey pavement. It started to form small puddles, and the sparkling lights of shops and streetlamps reflected on water and lit up the night.

He turned his head, searching for the barista. He was frowning, as usual, and he was reading the same novel. SpongeBob was too far away to see what he was reading, yet again. He would ask him what it was sometime, he told himself. Just not tonight. He looked worn thin.

After an hour or two of banter, Patrick started to yawn. “I’m sleepy. That picecream really filled my tummy up!”

Sandy laughed, slapping him on the back playfully. “Picecream? Is that what you’re calling it?”

SpongeBob and Sandy erupted into simultaneous laughter. “Oh, that’s rich!”

Patrick frowned. “It can’t be rich, it’s a pie! Pie can’t have money!”

Squidward was silently listening from his seat behind the register, with a very, very faint smile on his face. “Idiots,” he mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at http://aradaisy.tumblr.com to see chapter art!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SpongeBob attempts to kick his cold, finding that a bath and tea aren't the only things that are going to warm up his day.

It had been a few days since SpongeBob left his apartment for anything other than to attend his classes. He had indeed caught a cold, and though the phlegm in his lungs was finally subsiding, his body was still wracked with chills. He was bundled up on the sofa with a soft yellow blanket wrapped around himself, bones aching with cold and his nose still dripping. He made use of the tissues on the coffee table across from his blue sofa, wiping at his reddened pointed nose.

Sandy stopped by the grocery store to pick up an assortment of different canned soups, and at his special request, Darjeeling and Mint teas. She worried after him every so often, sending him text messages to check on his current state. Patrick was worried as well, though he didn’t check in quite as often. He simply came over with his Xbox without warning, and the two would play video games for hours to pass the time. The two had formed an unmistakable bond in the short time that they had known each other. Some people, he figured, were just on the same wavelength.

He sat up on his couch, holding his body up with his shaking arms. He felt dirty, sweat pasting curled blonde hair to his forehead. His muscles were sore, and tissues were balled up and thrown about in the general area of the trashcan. The air had a certain odor of sickliness, and he had decided that he had enough with his current state of living. He was a generally optimistic and energetic person, and he didn’t like it when life threw him obstacles that hindered his quality of living. He was raised to be a determined young man. Or, maybe, it was simply in his nature.

He raised his freckled arms above his head and stretched, listening to his various joints crack and pop. He groaned, the pleasure of feeling his muscles stretch warming his hazy mind. Grey sunlight was peering through the drawn curtains, and the low sound of electricity hummed through the stagnant air.

He stood up and rubbed his eyes, sighing through his nose. He didn’t know if he had all the energy he needed to stand in the shower for a long period of time, so he wandered into his bathroom and twisted the knob and pulled, watching water pour from the bath tap. He stuck his fingers into the water, testing for a moderate temperature. When he was satisfied, he pulled away, wiping the water on his shirt.

He made his way back out into his living room, staring at the disarray. He shook his head, mumbling to himself. This simply would not do. He walked over to the long curtains, pulling them open. He squinted his eyes and blinked at the blinding sunlight that poured into the room, illuminating it for the first time in precisely three days.

He grabbed a trash bag and cleansed his living space, throwing rouge used tissues into the bag. He wiped down tables and cracked the window, much to the dismay of his skin. The cold seemed to bite, but the air in the apartment would greatly thank him for the breath of freshness.

Once he had finished, he found that his bath was nearly full. He twisted the knob once more, and sighed as he sank into the warm, soothing water. He lay there for a while with eyes closed, listening to the sound of water dripping from the tap into the warm tub. He let his thoughts drift away, grasping at slivers of concepts that he hadn’t quite worked out. His mind was always running with ideas and different tasks, and he rarely had any time to simply sit and be still with them. The current quiet of his apartment gave him free reign to think about things he usually would not, and it was soothing- if not a bit unnerving. Nevertheless, he enjoyed himself when he did get the time to unwind. It was nice. He thought about his new friends, he thought about his mother and father, and he thought about the novel that the barista might have been reading.

When he was done relaxing, he sat up and scrubbed at his sweaty skin with a loofah. He made sure to get every part of himself clean, as he hadn’t felt well enough to do that in the past few days. It was nothing short of refreshing to feel cleanly again. He scrubbed at his hair with shampoo, dunking his head in the water when he was satisfied with the smell and feel of it. He would air dry it today instead of gelling it like he usually did, letting the soft curls fall around his head.

He got out, rubbing at his wet hair with a towel. When he was done, he wrapped the same towel around his thin waist and walked to his bedroom, pulling sweatpants and a crewneck sweater on to keep his body warm while the window was open. He hadn’t planned on leaving the house today, so he wasn’t entirely concerned about his fashion.

He left his bedroom and returned to the sofa, clicking the television on. It was left on a random cooking channel when he had fallen asleep the night before, and the woman on the screen was making a delicious stack of blueberry pancakes. He twitched his nose and watched intently, mouth watering. He didn’t have the blueberries it called for, but he could happily make do without. He could always substitute them with another ingredient…possibly cinnamon and apple? It was fall, after all. Cinnamon and apples went hand in hand with the season. He had the mix for pancakes, and he thought that he still had a bit of cinnamon left over in its canister.

He picked himself up off of the couch again, feeling much better than before. After his bath and thorough cleaning of his living space, his bones didn’t quite ache as much. His lungs weren’t completely filled with mucus anymore either, so the syrupy stacks of flour wouldn’t hurt him.

He entered the kitchen, pulling the mix out of the cupboard and locating the last of the cinnamon. After he sat them out on the counter, he opened his fridge and located a red apple.

When he had gathered all of the needed ingredients, he pulled a pan out from the bottom cabinets. He set it on the stove, turning the heat close to the middle. When that was done, he made sure to chop the apples properly and mix the batter, throwing cinnamon in.

He dropped butter into the heated pan, listening to it sizzle and melt. When he was satisfied with the area that the butter had covered, he picked the pan up, swirling the butter around.

His mother had introduced him to cooking when he was very young, burn proofing her son with mitts and long sleeved shirts. When she was confident in his abilities to help in the kitchen, she sewed him his own apron. After that, he had helped her ever since. He smiled fondly, barely grasping to the memories of his mother hoisting him up onto a stool to watch her cook.

He poured the mixture into the pan, reveling in the sizzling sound it made. The edges of the pancake started to bubble after a short while, and he flipped it, revealing a perfectly golden piece of artwork.

He repeated this until he had a stack of equally golden pancakes heaped onto a plate that his father bought him. They smelled heavenly, speckles of cinnamon clearly visible. Steam swirled in feathers off of the top, and it melted the butter that he had generously applied between each individual layer. But, he thought, what was a good pancake without good syrup?

He searched in his cabinets, eventually finding a glass bottle filled with maple syrup. He could have easily bought a cheaper alternative, but his appreciation of finer food ingredients prevented him from doing so every time. He would often remember his father scolding him for his high taste in food, laughing when he remembered turning his nose up to something that didn’t quite meet the cut to his culinary standards.

He generously drizzled the golden syrup onto his still hot pancakes, sticking his tongue out a bit to the side in concentration. When he was finished, he stepped back and grinned at his work.

He snapped out of it when he let out a wet cough, however. Though he was feeling a little bit better from when he had first woken up, he was still ill. He grabbed a mug from the glass cabinet, filling it with water and setting a bag of Darjeeling inside. He left it in the microwave for approximately a minute and a half. He had read somewhere that the best way to make tea was indeed in the microwave, though he still doubted it in the back of his mind. He would always give things a try, though.

When the microwaved sounded, he pulled the tea out and tossed the bag, adding two sugars and a bit of heavy cream. He twirled the mix with a spoon, watching the caramel color of the tea become milky with the cream. When he was done, he lifted the cup up to his nose, inhaling the sweet earthy scent.

He ate his pancakes in silence while he sipped his tea, listening to the television hum away in the background. He hadn’t exactly planned on going anywhere today, but he was steadily gaining health throughout the day. Perhaps all he needed was to slow down and actually take care of his mental and physical health. He was constantly moving, constantly thinking, constantly worrying about the wellbeing of other people.

On the thought of other people, he pulled his phone into his hand, clicking the button on the side, watching the screen light up. He had a few unread messages, multiple social media notifications, and a few stray pesky game notifications. He made a mental note to disable those later.

He swiped, typing his four-digit password into the phone, gaining access. He checked his text messages first, clicking on Sandy’s name. She had sent him a message checking up on him a few hours ago, while he was still sleeping. A few hours after that, she sent him something that made his eyebrows raise.

 _Hey,_ she started. _I found that Barista guy on social media. Thought you might like to check out his profile; says he’s into fine arts and music. Still don’t like him, but you probably do. Thank me later._

The message was followed with a link to a Facebook profile and an Instagram profile. He wondered why Sandy would even have bothered to look for him on social media, but then again, Sandy seemed like the kind of girl that liked to network and get in touch with people. She probably did a fair amount of people research in her spare time.

He first clicked on the link to his Facebook profile, unconsciously smiling when he saw a picture of Squidward smiling for once. He held what looked to be like a clarinet in his hands, and he had a man with a strikingly similar appearance half cropped out of the picture. They looked to be at some sort of recital.

He scrolled further, unsurprised to find that Squidward had most of his information locked to anyone other than the people he had on his friends list. He was a solemn and private person in real life, and it only made sense for him to be the same way online. He checked his about and information, making a mental note that his birthday was coming up soon. He was turning twenty on October 9TH.

He closed out of that tab, clicking on the link to his Instagram account. It was small, with around 300 followers and a smattering of photographs. His bio was short as well, saying:

_Squidward Tentacles, 19, fine arts major. Lover of literature, music, and tasteful wine._

SpongeBob bit back a smile, scrolling through the assortment of photographs on his account. He apparently loved to travel whenever he got the chance, and he seemed to have been on and off with the man in his profile picture on Facebook. He seemed to be snobbish, dressing in expensive clothing and having a very evident taste for the finer things in life. SpongeBob’s nose twitched in thought.

Squidward had posted some of his paintings on his account. They were very tasteful in his opinion, though he could see why others would think they were odd. He seemed to feature himself in his work a lot, distorted in a Picasso like way. He believed art students called it abstract.

He figured Squidward was the kind of person to be very interesting under his cold façade, and he wasn’t surprised to find out that he had been right in his assumptions. He thought that the grumpiest, quietest people turned out to be the most interesting. They usually had many stories to tell, and he figured no one wakes up and decides to act a certain way. Something about him intrigued SpongeBob, and he made up his mind that he was very determined to find out.

After psyching himself up, he clicked follow and bit at his lip. If he was to ever attempt to get to know the other, he would most likely have to initiate it himself. He would make up a fake story, as much as he hated doing so, saying that he stumbled upon his account through a mutual friend. He thought, maybe, if Squidward would listen to him, he could talk to him about his art. He really did enjoy it; no matter how abstract it could get.

He turned the screen of his phone off, setting his dishes in the sink to soak. He would get to them later, deciding that he might as well get out of the house at least once today. He hadn’t planned on it, but then again, he hadn’t really planned a lot of things in his life. He was simply a spontaneous person and he was okay with that, even if others weren’t.

When he made it back to his room, he combed through his hair with his fingers, looking in the mirror. It had dried fully, and it fell in soft curls above his eyes. He didn’t want to be out for long, so he let it be. He pulled on a brown sweater, black pants, and his burgundy scarf. He was too lazy to pop his contacts in, so he settled for the black rimmed glasses he wore when he was working. He laughed when he realized that he looked like the typical 21st century hipster, but he didn’t care much. His brown pea coat, now fully dried, pulled the entire look together.

Before he left his house, he grabbed a beanie and pulled it around his hair, just to be safe. And just to be even safer, he grabbed an umbrella. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake over again, not after what had happened last time. He was careless, yes, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t learn from his past mistakes and preserve his own health.

He stepped out into the cool autumn air, inhaling the smell that was so distinct with autumn. Cranberry bushes and rain. He believed the smell had a specific word- he thought it was petrichor. It had a very nice ring to it, he thought.

As he walked out into the golden light of morning, the trees were colors of fire and gold and he smiled as he wondered why the world had to be at its most beautiful during its time of dying.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incredibly sorry about the quality of this chapter, and even more sorry about the amount of time it took to be posted. I just recently moved into my OWN college dorm, and I'm starting my OWN college adventure.  
> Please expect more frequent updates from now on!

SpongeBob had been walking for a while now, watching the golden leaves of autumn fall off of their branches, finding a new home on the frost covered ground. The sun was climbing in the sky, lighting the gray of day at last. SpongeBob wasn't a fan of the gray and bleak, though he didn't mind it in the least. He figured that, maybe, if there weren't days filled with unpleasant weather, he wouldn't be able to appreciate the beauty of the sun when it did come.  

He blinked his long eyelashes, feeling them cool on his cheek. Twenty minutes prior, he had left the coziness of his apartment to wander wherever his feet took him. However, this time he was properly prepared for any turn of weather mother nature may have in store for him. He twirled his umbrella at the thought.  

He was an extrovert, down to the very last ounce of his being. He didn't quite understand the thought process of introverts, but he liked them nonetheless. To him, being out in public and engaging in a meaningful conversation with a stranger was an ideal pastime. He didn't understand how people could sit inside at home all day, though he passed no judgment onto them. He had to get out today, no matter how badly his body was rejecting it. He was starting to feel claustrophobic in the small space he called home.  

He figured he'd stop by the Krusty Krab and grab a Krabby Patty, attempting to make small talk with the manager. He'd loved visiting the restaurant since he was small, and he had grown unusually attached to not only the food they served, but of the atmosphere. He knew it was strange, but he wanted to work there when he graduated. Passion over pay, he figured.  

He walked down the winding road, feet crunching on the pavement. He gazed at the scenery passing by, forlorn by the sight of the dying world. The grass was turning from green to gold, and although it was breathtakingly beautiful, he hated to see anything die, no matter what it was. Life was absolutely precious to him, no matter how big or how small.  

His demeanor brightened when he caught sight of the wooden boards of the restaurant up ahead. It had stood there proudly for many years, unchanging. Where the town had bustled and grown, the Krusty Krab remained untouched. Very little people were ever hired there, due to the manager's love for clinging onto money and his high expectations of his workers.  

When he drew near, he pushed the glass doors open and made his way to the front. He greeted the cashier with a smile, glancing at the menu.  

Though he didn't know what for, he ordered the same thing every time he had visited.  

"Hi! I'd like a Krabby Patty with cheese, please. And a soda too."  

The cashier nodded, looking him up and down. "Can I get you anything else, sir?"  

SpongeBob paused for a second before asking. "Can I also speak with your manager, please?  

The cashier was slightly taken aback, mouth hanging open slightly. "Of course, but before you do, is this about anything I've done? If so, I'm sincerely sorry and I-"  

SpongeBob blinked a few times before laughing nervously. "No, no, no. I just want to see if he's hiring."  

The cashier gripped his chest and smiled in relief. "Geez, little dude. Don't scare me like that."  

He led SpongeBob to a door and asked him to please wait while he went inside to talk to his manager. After a few minutes and some loud, choice words, a larger man with dark reddish hair and a pot belly stepped out with a clearly forced grin.  

"Hello, Lad. How can I help ye today?"  

SpongeBob stood up straight and pasted the proudest grin he could muster on his face. "Hi! I'm SpongeBob. I've been a customer here my whole life." He shifted in his shoes. "I really enjoy eating here, and I was wondering if you were hiring?"  

The manager scoffed. "No thank ye boy, we have all of the help we currently need." He shot a venomous glare at the cashier, causing the poor man to look away and scratch at the back of his head awkwardly.  

The manager turned to leave, causing SpongeBob to panic." No, wait! I'm a culinary arts major, and I swear I would be the best employee you’ve ever had-"  

This caused the manager to stop and look at him again. "Where are you studyin'?"  

SpongeBob puffed up again. "Bikini Bottom University."  

The manager glared at him for a second before extending his large work scarred hand. "Nice to meet ye boy, the name's Eugene Krabs." He shook SpongeBob's hand roughly before continuing. "You wouldn't happen to know of a man named Sheldon Plankton, would ye?"  

SpongeBob's eyes widened, gleaming. "Wo-ow, you know Professor Plankton? He's my philosophy professor! He's not such a bad guy, though he is-"  

Mr. Krabs' arm shot up, silencing the other. "Not another word, thank ye. I can't believe that dirty little miscreant thinks he can become a philosophy professor." He pointed at his employee. "Jim, get in here and help me figure out how I can become a professor! Now!"  

Jim jumped and followed his manager's instructions, both of them walking off and shutting the door loudly behind them.  

"Hello?" SpongeBob shouted. "I haven't gotten my Krabby Patty yet!"  

  

\---  

  

After he had given up and left, SpongeBob was once again wandering the streets of town, kicking at the puddles that had formed on the asphalt. He figured he should probably head home soon, but didn't want to due to the uneventfulness of this particular day. He had to feel like he had accomplished something, no matter what it was or how small. He puffed his cheeks and sighed, rubbing at his eyes in irritation. He could always phone his mother, she could come and pick him up. They could go home and visit for a while, maybe?  

He shook the thought out of his head, searching for other options. He loved his mother and father, but he didn't want to be reminded of the fact that he couldn't drive right now. He enjoyed walking anyway, it was...more fun. At least, that's what he told himself.  

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, sniffling. He froze in his shoes when he saw an Instagram notification glaring at him through the screen.  

Squidward liked one of his Instagram photos.  

It wasn't anything too big, it was just a semi-blurry selfie of himself standing in front of an Italian dinner he had cooked with his mother before he moved into his apartment. They made it together as their last official family meal while he was still living at home. The caption read, "Last dinner at home with Mom and Pa before college!"

He blinked, taken aback. It shouldn't have been anything too big to him, but he felt honored that the aloof and grouchy Squidward Tentacles had liked a personal photo of his. He hadn't followed him back, but he had liked a photo, and that was enough to boost the confidence of a certain SpongeBob Squarepants.  

He bounced and made a childish squealing sound, grinning wildly with delight. Maybe Squidward would accept his offer of friendship after all!  

He walked around a bit, finding a wooden bench underneath a tree. He sat down, smoothing out his pea coat. He had to create a game plan.  

He audibly gulped, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He felt a jolt of anxiety run down his spine as he unlocked the phone, found the Instagram app, and opened the notification. It was as true and as plain as day, Squidward had indeed liked the photo. SpongeBob held his breath, opening up the link that led to Squidward's account. 

It was exactly as it was before, same tasteful photos and all. 

SpongeBob decided to play Instagram tag, opening the first photo on his account so as to not seem like he was internet stalking him, though he technically was- but that was beside the point. 

It was a photo of himself with a painting he had finished, clearly inspired by the works of Pablo Picasso. He was smiling smugly, paint on his cheek and arms crossed. Squidward probably thought he looked very smart, but all SpongeBob could do was bite back fond laughter. 

He double tapped the photo, cold anxiety flooding his veins. If Squidward thought it was weird, he could live with it. But if he didn't...well, he hadn't quite gotten that far in his planning yet. 

He let out a shaky breath, laying his head back onto the cool wood of the bench. He closed his eyes, feeling the cool air bite at his bones. He was still ill, he didn't really know why he thought it was a good idea to simply wander about. 

A leaf drifted down from the tree, hitting him in the face and startling him from his thoughts. 

He should really head home and finish the required reading for his intro to college writing class. 

He picked himself up from the bench, pulling the coat closer to his body. His hair had curled even more now, and he cursed the humidity of the air. He tried so hard every day to gel it and straighten it out, but curly hair ran in his family. 

He stood, staring at the sunlight twinkling through the dying leaves of the tree. It was absolutely beautiful, and he was sad that he wouldn't be able to see the greenery anymore in the upcoming winter months. 

He pulled his lips into a tight line, thinking about returning to his empty apartment. 

He kept it clean most of the time, and he did his best to prepare meals every night, but it still seemed incredibly empty and even worse, lonely. Sometimes, even though he wouldn't admit it, he would attempt to postpone going home by making up errands to run along the way. 

 _Perhaps Patrick would want to come over and help him bake some cookies?_  He ran his hand through his hair. 

Maybe that wasn't the best idea, Patrick had burned their last batch, burning them beyond what he thought was possible.  

He shook his head. 

 _Sandy was always fun_ , he thought to himself. He tapped his foot. 

 _She was fun when she wasn't busy completing work for her biology class_. 

He sighed and shrugged, taking off towards home. He might as well just go home and complete his assignment like he was supposed to do. 

Though, he wished he had someone or something to bring home with him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SpongeBob finds the perfect cure for the loneliness of his apartment.

SpongeBob closed the door to his apartment behind him gingerly, making sure to take off his shoes as he walked in. The apartment was dark, and since he had forgotten to close the window, it was now cold as well.

He shivered, rubbing his hands up and down the sides of his arms. He rushed over to the open kitchen window, promptly shutting it with a slam. He shook his head and sniffled, appalled at his lack of responsibility.

He made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a mug, filling it with tap water. When he was done, he popped a bag of peppermint tea into the water and shoved it in the microwave. Phlegm had started to creep back into his lungs due to being in the cold all day, and he silently cursed at himself for not dressing warmer.

When the microwaved beeped and the tea had been made, he walked over to his sofa, plopping down onto the soft cushions lazily. He felt absolutely miserable, but he didn't want to stay in the house. However, he had a choice. Be miserable and stay inside and get better, or be miserable and go out and get sicker.

He wasn't a stupid guy, so he chose the latter.

He rubbed at his eyes, small tears forming at his waterline. His eyes felt dry, and it stung slightly.

He hadn't felt this alone in quite some time. When he had lived at home with his family, he constantly had someone to talk to, and at the very least, someone to just be in the same space with. Now that he was an adult, he was completely alone in his own apartment, and that made him more upset than he'd like to admit. He had friends now, and he could definitely call on them for help, but he figured they were busy. He had already seen them multiple days in a row.

He shook his curly mop of hair, leaning his head down into his hands. He didn't cry very often, and maybe it was just the illness affecting his emotions, but he felt horrible and he needed some sort of healthy outlet.

After a few minutes, he coughed wetly and grabbed at a tissue. He blew into the tissue roughly, making sure to clear his sinuses after breaking down. He was an ugly crier; he always had snot dripping from his nose by breakdowns end.

He reached into his pocket, grabbing his phone. He didn't have any notifications, and that made him feel even worse. He laid back onto the soft cushions and closed his tired eyes. He hadn't taken his coat off, or his scarf, and he was almost too tired to care.

Almost.

He lifted himself up slowly, stretching as he stood. He made his way to his bedroom, peeling off his clothing as he went. When he got down to his underwear, he threw all of the discarded clothing into his laundry basket and got into bed. He curled up underneath his covers, reveling in the warmth. He didn't get the opportunity to simply lay down very often, being busy with school now. But when he did get the chance, he enjoyed it thoroughly.

He grabbed his phone, mood lifting when it made a notification sound. His goofy smile dropped into a pout. It was a CNN news notification. It read: "Love Your Pet Day, 5 ways pets benefit your health."

He opened the notification, eyes scanning the article quickly. It made a few good points, one of them being "stress reduction and better self-esteem." That sounded highly appealing to SpongeBob.

He had never had pets growing up, not because he disliked them, but because his parents believed that having a pet would make the house dirtier quicker. He hardly agreed with them, but there was nothing he could do.

But...

A smile crept onto his face. He was an adult now. He could do whatever he wanted.

He finished reading the article, becoming happier as he went. He didn't even know if he was ALLOWED pets in his apartment, but he decided to do research anyway. He loved dogs, but the ones he liked were too large to be able to live happily in the tiny city apartment. He decided to scratch that thought.

Could he also get a hamster? Or some other type of small animal, like a fish? He laughed obnoxiously, imagining trying to bond with a tiny animal like a hamster or a fish. He decided to scrap that idea as well.

A cat, maybe? He blinked. Cats were soft, they purred, and they weren't hard to maintain at all. Although cats liked to go outside every once in a while, it wasn't entirely needed for them to be happy. They were small, easy to take care of, and incredibly cute. SpongeBob liked the sound of that.

He opened the google app, searching for animal shelters in Bikini Bottom. He found the one closest to his apartment, making sure to note their business hours down in his head. They were open most days of the week from 7:00 AM to 9:00 PM.

He looked at the phone number, puffing his cheeks in thought. He could always call and ask how many cats were available for adoption first, and maybe he could ask the shelter what animal would be the best fit for him personality wise. He nodded his head, deciding to call tomorrow and possibly go in the day after. He figured that if he got himself a cat, he wouldn't feel half as lonely anymore.

\---

The next day, SpongeBob woke when he felt comfortable getting up. He didn't feel nearly as bad as he did yesterday. He'd been taking medication to make the symptoms dissipate, and he'd been drinking the tea Sandy had bought him almost religiously.

He showered and got dressed, making himself french toast quickly before he had to go. He decided to skip the phone call entirely, too excited to wait an extra day. He figured he'd be able to make a judgment call on his own, he'd just let the animal pick him. If they liked him, they couldn't be all that bad.

When he finished his food, he tossed the plates in the sink and ran to the bathroom to scrub at his teeth. He spat the toothpaste into the sink, turning the tap on and washing it down. He splashed his face with water, leaving his hair curly again.

When he was done, he threw his clothes on, put his shoes on, and ran out the door with his coat in hand.

While he was walking, he opened his text messages. Sandy had checked up on him early in the morning to see if he needed anything to make the flu pass easier.

He typed a message back, explaining how much better he felt. He thanked her before telling her where he was headed.

She responded promptly, clearly very excited for him. _Wow, that sure is great! I would get a cat, but I'm too busy with my bio class. Not to mention all of my other classes too._

SpongeBob smiled. The typing bubble popped up again.

_I'm happy for you, little bugger. Make sure to take good care of him!_

SpongeBob replied after a few minutes. _I sure will Sandy, thank you!_

He shoved his phone back into his pocket as he came up to the front door of the animal shelter.

He pushed the glass doors, letting himself inside. It was a large building, and there were various types of animals out in the lobby inside of their cages, waiting to be adopted. He figured these were the high priority animals.

He walked up to the front desk, greeting the attendant warmly. He asked her where the cat room was, and she directed him down the hallway to the left. She said it would be on the right, on the very end.

SpongeBob thanked her, making his way down the hall. He passed the dog room, hearing all kinds of different dogs barking, waiting for someone to come in and take them away to their forever home. SpongeBob sincerely hoped they did soon.

When he finally reached the cat room, he stopped. He peered in through the glass window, seeing rows and rows of cages stacked upon each other. He hated seeing anything caged up, it wasn't fair. He was glad he'd be able to take at least one of them away, hopefully making their lives better.

He opened the door gently, slowly making his way into the room so as to not scare any of the cats. They started to pace back and forth in their cages, meowing loudly in greeting.

He laughed quietly, kneeling down in front of an orange tabby cat's cage. It purred and rubbed its face on the metal bars of its cage, and SpongeBob reached through and scratched its chin. The cat loved it, and SpongeBob loved being able to make it happy.

He walked over to a box, looking inside. It contained different cat toys, one being a feather on a stick. He grabbed it, making his way to each and every cage, playing with every animal. Some weren't interested, and some were. Each animal had an entirely different personality.

He came up to a bluish gray tabby cat at the very end of the rows of cages, and it was hiding in the back of its cage, obviously scared.

SpongeBob cooed at the cat quietly, being surprised when it let out a loud hiss.

SpongeBob stepped back. Every single cat in the shelter was more or less nice to him, and none had hissed at him or tried to bite him. This was entirely different.

The cat growled and shifted in its spot. SpongeBob didn't understand why it was so upset.

He looked around, telling the cat he would be right back. He walked over to the box of toys, gasping when he found a bag of cat nip.

He took the bag and walked back over to its cage. It growled lowly in its chest, and SpongeBob made soft cooing noises to try to soothe its nerves.

He opened the bag, giggling when he heard all of the cats begin to meow. The cat in the back was no longer hissing, but it still didn't look entirely friendly.

He carefully poured a large amount into his hands, making sure to dump it into the cat's cage as quickly as he could.

The cat hissed and batted at his hand, but was quickly distracted by the new substance on the floor of his cage.

It knelt down and sniffed, surprised. SpongeBob watched in awe as it flopped down and began to roll in the catnip, watching its demeanor change quickly. After a minute or so of watching the cat eat the catnip and roll around, he decided to try and play with it again. He grabbed the feather on a string and stuck it inside the cage again.

To his delight, the cat started to playfully bat at it with its tiny paws. He did this for a while, weighing the pros and cons of possibly tiring to stick his hand inside and pet the cat.

He decided to do it.

He pulled the stick out, taking a deep breath. He slowly inched his hand inside, gulping as he got closer. The cat went still.

SpongeBob touched the soft fur gently, and the cat simply sat there, still as stone.

It had let him touch it.

SpongeBob started to pet it, making sure to be slow and gentle as to not scare it. It eventually started to rub its face on his hand, and SpongeBob's heart felt like it was being pulled.

He got closer to the cage, cooing. "I wonder what your name is?"

The cat didn't reply, but it did look at him with questioning eyes.

SpongeBob pursed his lips in thought. "I'll be right back, I promise."

He walked back out into the lobby, asking the woman at the desk if anyone could help him with the cat. She called a worker in, and they both went back into the cat room to talk.

When SpongeBob showed her the cat in question, she made a nervous face. "Are you sure you like this one? He's been known to bite, and he's not very friendly."

SpongeBob nodded. "I really like him. He's a nice guy. Does he have a name?"

The woman rubbed at the side of her head in exasperation. "Yes, he does. The older man that brought him in said he belonged to his late wife, and that his name is Gary."

SpongeBob laughed loudly. "What? That's a human name!"

She shrugged. "It's all he responds to."

SpongeBob shrugged. "I don't mind; I like it. It's unique. I'll take him."

The woman nodded, leading him back to the front desk to complete paperwork and pay the adoption fee. When he was done, he called a taxi cab to come and pick him up.

They got Gary into a portable cage, and SpongeBob made sure to talk sweetly to him the entire time. He couldn't imagine how scared the poor thing was at the moment.

The cab eventually pulled up in front of the building, and SpongeBob and his new friend got in. As they drove home, SpongeBob fed him little cat treats he purchased, happily watching Gary gobble each and every little bite down.

When they got home, SpongeBob sat the cage down and opened the door. "You can come out now, Gary. You're home, and you're free. You don't have to be scared anymore."

At that, the cat peeked out and sniffed the air. It had wide eyes, and it was taking every detail of the small apartment in.

It walked out and sat down on the rug. It no longer looked scared, which was completely the opposite of what SpongeBob expected. He looked at Gary and smiled.

"Are you hungry, Gare-Bear?"

The cat meowed loudly, the first time SpongeBob had heard it make any noise other than hissing and growling.

"Woah, okay buddy! Let's get some grub going, how does that sound?"

The cat meowed again, even louder.

He wasn't alone in the tiny apartment. Not anymore.

Maybe this could be home after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions or comments? Hit me up on my tumblr, http://aradaisy.tumblr.com :)


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